Thickhead
by icylemonsquash
Summary: He was just trying to make her understand. Of course, it would help if she wasn't being such a thickhead.


_**AN: I'M ON A ROLL AREN'T I?! Well I hope you guys like this! I've never written Scorpius and Rose out of school before, so this should be interesting! Reviews keep me happy when I am sad. Just so you know.**_

_**I hope you enjoy it!**_

_**xxicls**_

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_Thud._

What?

_** Thud.**_

It was getting louder.

_** THUD THUD THUD.**_

And more insistent.

Rolling over in bed, the sheets tangling around my legs, I blindly groped for the alarm clock, but somewhere in the back of my sleepy mind, I knew that the noise wasn't coming from it.

I cracked open one of my eyes.

The door was shaking with the force of someone's knocks.

So someone was _knocking_!

Sitting up blearily, I glanced at the clock hanging beside the door.

2 bloody a.m.

Who knocked on doors at 2 a.m?! Alright, I knew the answer to that.

The knocking increased in speed and ferocity.

"Blimey, I'm coming, I'M COMING!" I yelled, my volume increasing with each word. The knocking stopped, and I was tempted to collapse back onto bed and ignore him.

But I was a good friend.

So I threw my legs over the edge of my king-sized bed, slid off it, and grabbed my robe. I slung it on, fastening it as I pulled the door to my apartment open, a scowl already on my face.

"Good morning Rosie," Scorpius Malfoy said cheerily, smiling his cocky half-smile, the one that simultaneously made me want to punch it off his face, and also melt into a puddle.

"It's fucking 2 a.m."

"You're such a welcoming host," he drawled, eyes sweeping over my face, taking in my bed-head and sleepy eyes.

"You're not a guest," I informed him, sluggishly moving aside so he could enter my apartment. "An intruder, more like."

"You break my heart, love," he said, stepping inside. "Nice robes by the way," he informed me, and his eyes twinkled as he gave me a once over, pinching the thick material of the robe.

I looked down at myself, and embarrassedly realised that I was wearing a pair robes that had massive, glittering, bright pink, heart-shaped snitches flying – literally flying in the material of the robe – everywhere.

I blushed, my hand reaching up the rub of my neck awkwardly. "It was a gift," I mumbled.

"Hey, whatever rings your bell."

I rolled my eyes, shutting the door behind him. "Why didn't you go to Al?"

"He was with Alice. Besides, I wanted to see _you_, Rosie dearest."

"Pish," I mumbled, falling back onto my bed, crossing my legs, and sitting upright. "So what're you doing here?"

He ignored my question, and glanced around my apartment looking for somewhere to sit. "I'll never understand the rationale behind the arrangement of your... _home_."

I laughed. Glancing around my apartment, it was I acknowledged that it was rather unusual. The main door let straight into one massive room, where the king-sized bed was set up opposite the entrance. To the left of the door, the kitchen counter – which also served as my tiny dining table – branched out from the wall, forming a flipped over 'L' shape, enclosing a considerable portion of the room, including a refrigerator and stove. To the right lay my closet, bookshelves, a small desk and chair (for work), a comfortable armchair (for reading) and also a foldable room divider, which I hid behind to change. To the right of my bed was the door leading to the – also large – bathroom. Hey, it was a massive room.

It wasn't so good for visitors, but it was perfect for me.

And it was _my _apartment, which I promptly reminded Scorpius. I also told him he wasn't allowed to sleep on my bed.

Grumbling, he grabbed my rolling desk chair – I _loved _muggle equipment. I mean pens? Ingenious! – swung it round, and sat down, so he was straddling it. Abruptly deciding that I should brush my teeth, I crawled off the bed and walked into the bathroom, gesturing for Scorpius to follow.

He pushed the chair along like a little girl would when riding a toy pony, and I tried not to laugh as he waited for me at the entrance of my bathroom.

"So what's going on, Scorpius?" I called, watching him through the reflection of the mirror, layering my toothbrush with '_Misty's Minty Magically Whitening Toothpaste!'_

"Oh, just another pleasant evening with lovely Ol gramps. I just had to get out of there."

I cringed, and watched – with a toothbrush sticking out of my mouth – as Scorpius nonchalantly swung the chair around. But I knew better. Scorpius loved his family, I knew that. But if there was one person he couldn't stand, it was his Grandfather, Lucius Malfoy. And he could never understand why his father treated the old man so respectfully, despite his raging case of pureblood egomania.

I rinsed my mouth, spitting out the toothpaste. With my minty fresh breath, I wheeled Scorpius away from the bathroom door and lay down on my bed, facing him, stomach-down. I propped my head up with my hand. "What did he do this time?"

With a surge of mortification – or was it secret pleasure? – I noticed his eyes linger at the area around my chest. Blushing, I quickly pulled the material of my tank top up, ensuring it didn't reveal too much. He looked at me with that same cocky half-smile, his eyes twinkling, and I scowled at him.

"Malfoy, I'm pretty sure you didn't come over to leer at me."

"What if I did?" he asked unexpectedly.

"Did what?"

"Come over to, as you say, "_leer_" at you."

"Then I'd reckon you're mad."

"Why's that?"

"Because there's absolutely nothing to leer at!" I huffed.

He shook his head. "You don't give yourself enough credit, Rose." His light grey eyes twinkled.

I hated it when he got like this. I absolutely _abhorred_ it when he became all cryptic and unclear. Scorpius and I had always been best-mates, with Albus, but I always had a sort-of-maybe crush on him.

I mean, which girl doesn't _slightly _fancy her best mate of 10 years, who isn't her blood-relative?

Probably every girl.

10 years! That was almost half my life. Holy shit.

Anyway, in seventh year, Scorpius and I had a sort-of thing.

With me and Scorpius, there were many 'sort-ofs.'

A sort-of kiss under enchanted mistletoe in seventh year – because with mistletoe, it wasn't a _real _kiss, a sort-of hand-holding incident – because I was depressed, and he was trying to support me, a sort-of cuddling incident – because he was comfortable and we were not together –

Well you understand what I mean.

But eventually things settled down – without us discussing it, of course. Because a healthy conversation about sort-of feelings between Scorpius Malfoy and Rose Weasley would be completely detrimental to our respective well-beings – after we left for Hogwarts and he became an Auror, and I a Healer.

We both dated – other people, of course – but for either of us, no one ever seemed to really stick. Of course, Malfoy had all the dates he wanted, what with his stupid handsome face and aristocratic features and sharp cheekbones and smirk, but from what he let on, he never really liked any of them in particular.

My longest boyfriend had been Jason Finnegan, and that lasted about 5 months, at most. The lifespan of Scorpius' girlfriends were at most, a week.

"We're getting off topic!" I exclaimed.

"Of course we are," Scorpius drawled and rolled his eyes, but the playful light in his eyes had dimmed.

"What's that supposed to mean?!"

"Nothing."

"Scorpius," I warned, looking up at him intently.

He laughed bitterly, and I was alarmed by the change in his tone. "I mean that it's just like you to do something like this. You always steer the conversation away from dangerous territory."

"What the fuck are you blathering about, Malfoy?" I asked hotly, pushing hair out of my face. "What dangerous territory?"

Scorpius just looked at me, biting the inside of his cheek.

"Feelings!" he spat. "You never talk about what _you _feel."

I almost laughed.

Sitting upright so my legs swung off the side of the bed, I said, "You're talking to _me _about lack of feeling? You're made of stone!" I threw my hands in the air incredulously. "_Also, _who's the person who stayed up all night talking to you about your grandfather last summer? I've got feeling!"

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I'm not doubting you have feeling, Rose. All I'm saying is that you never talk about how _you_ feel."

"This doesn't even make sense! Why are we talking about this?" I asked, panic beginning to rise in my chest as I... as I realised that he was right.

I always avoided sharing my feelings. They made me vulnerable, and if there was one thing I hated, it was being vulnerable.

"You're doing it again!" he growled.

"I... I don't know what to say! What do you want me to do?" I asked meekly, feeling the blood rush to my ears.

He sighed. "I don't know, Rose."

I paused, reluctant to speak when he was on such a short fuse. We had a history of flaring up at each other for no reason, and I didn't want to fight with him.

"Scorpius?" I asked tentatively, reaching out to touch his forearm. He looked up at me, his sharp grey eyes piercing my brown ones. "What brought this on?"

He didn't answer.

"Please?" I appealed, trying to convey my sincerity with my eyes.

He sighed.

"Whenever I even _try _to bring up feelings – _our _feelings – you shut me down. Even when I'm only teasing."

I opened my mouth and closed it in shock. I didn't think he had even considered possible feelings we might have had for one another.

He smiled a little. "Rose, maybe you hadn't noticed, but I happened to be involved when I kissed you, Christmas of seventh year. I also happened to be there when you ran off, and after that, when you pretended nothing happened." His smile turned rueful.

"But-I-you-" I just sat there blubbering incoherently – 3 years later, he was finally mentioning this.

3 YEARS.

I mentioned this to him.

He shrugged. "3 out of 5 years."

WHAT WAS THAT SUPPOSED TO MEAN?!

Could that mean-? No. Five years was far too long for that.

He reached out and pushed a stray piece of hair out of my face and tucked it behind my ear. "You want me to let you in on the fight me and my-" he scoffed "grandfather had?"

"S-Sure."

He looked at me, and his eyes flitted from my own eyes, to my nose, to my lips. "According to him, I have reached marriageable age."

I nodded.

"He assumed," he said scathingly, "that I would allow him to choose my wife – some pureblood pansy, of course."

"Oh," I murmured in a small voice.

"I told him I cared squat about our bloodline. I would marry whoever I wanted, even if I was the last pureblood Malfoy heir and Black heir. I mean, it's my _fucking_ life, isn't it?"

I nodded, waiting for him to continue.

"And I can choose whoever it is I want to marry," he went on, eyes darkening. "And I honestly can't care less if she was a blood traitor or a halfblood, _or even both_."

Why was he looking at me like that?

I continued staring at him, as the words sunk in.

Halfblood: Check.

Blood traitor: Check.

Could he possibly be talking about – hope flared suddenly in my gut at his words, but I doused it almost immediately. We were having a serious conversation about Scorpius' future. I needed to learn how to chuck my stupid, girlish feelings aside.

"It just really pisses me off, you know? When my 'grandfather'—" he said the word with an immeasurable amount of contempt—"rambles on about our fucking non-existent _legacy_—it's like he doesn't realise it's over."

I slid my hand into his, squeezing his hand gently, trying to reassure him.

He then looked up at me, and his grey eyes were more intense than I'd ever remembered them. "I can't let him have that advantage over me, Rose. What if I'm thirty, and still hung up on-" Then he stopped himself. "I just… I feel like… I can't keep waiting for something that isn't there."

"Waiting for what?" I asked quietly, and I was surprised by the tremor in my voice, and the acceleration of my heart – it was as though my body was subconsciously trying to convey that something important was coming.

"I think you know the answer," he said mildly, his hold on my hand gentle. "I can't keep waiting, Rose."

Hope, fear, and anxiety simultaneously shot through my system, although I did try to – unsuccessfully – put a leash on it.

"Rose," he said quietly, "I've been _just a friend _for too long."

What- what? _WHAT?!_

Oh Merlin.

In that particular moment, I was simultaneously torn between the urge to either jump Scorpius or slink under my comforter and never come back up for air.

I could not handle all this information.

"I just need an answer, Rosie."

So instead of fulfilling either one of my urges, I said, "This conversation is too deep for so late at night."

Scorpius let out a breath that I'd been unaware he was holding. He then leaned back in his chair, shaking his head and dropping my hand, and he said, "I shouldn't have expected more."

My hand slid from his grasp and fell limply, bouncing on the side of the bed.

Well, if that didn't feel like a punch in the gut.

As he got out of his chair, I reached out and grasped his wrist. "Don't go."

He stopped and turned round to look at me.

"Please, Scorpius. I just need to... think."

"I'm leaving in the morning."

I nodded quickly, not expecting more from him.

He waved his wand, and a comfortable set of lain-out blankets and pillows appeared at the foot of my bed. I felt terrible that I had asked him to stay, I had left him hanging, and I was still making him sleep on the floor.

"Scorpius don't you want to-?" I gestured to the bed feebly.

He shook his head at me. "I don't want pity, Rose. Never pity."

I nodded, and as I pulled off my robe, and he pulled off his shirt, kicking off his shoes, he took out his wand, waved it, and extinguished the lights.

I lay down, absolutely certain I wouldn't be able to sleep for the rest of the night. I tried to process the information I had acquired.

Was Scorpius actually trying to tell me that he... he liked me more than a friend, after all these years?

Well that couldn't be possible, I dismissed, rolling over in bed.

Then again, he had actually admitted it.

I really thought about it.

After we left Hogwarts, I always thought Scorpius and I'd eventually fall apart. I hadn't wanted it to happen, of course, but we worked in completely different fields, lived in completely different areas, and I wasn't related to him like I was to Al. But he kept writing, popping into my apartment, and dragged me and Al out for dinner more often than not. The amount of effort he put into maintaining our friendship... it was almost as if he was hoping it would turn into something more.

Thinking about it, the friendship was just about effortless on my part. He was always... there. Granted, he was teasing me half the time, but I would be lying if I said that a little part of me didn't like that.

Sighing, I sat up in bed quietly and looked over the bed at him.

He was lying face-up, on his back, his face the epitome of serenity. His eyes were closed and a shadow fell over his face. His silvery blonde hair seemed to shine, even in the darkness, and I thought about how perfect he looked. One hand rested lightly on his stomach while the other was pulled back, behind his head. Just when I thought he might be asleep, his breathing picked up speed slightly and then slowed down, and he turned his head, toward me, his eyes still closed.

The memory of it hit me like a punch in the gut.

It was one of those lame ministry-ball things – exactly the kind Scorpius and I scoffed at, and made fun of. Majority of the people in the room were rich wankers, with sticks up their arseholes.

Yet we always turned up for these events, ever since we graduated.

We had our reasons – Scorpius worked in the ministry, and was desperately trying to prove himself in the Auror programme. It was especially important for him, he told me, because he needed to prove to the magical community, and _himself_, that he was not going the way his grandfather had, relying only on his family fortune to survive.

I was always there, well, because I was a child of two thirds of the "Golden Trio". I had to be a good daughter, and mingle with the populace, even though I knew that my parents hated these events almost as much as I did.

We always ended up together, alone at a large table. Albus would sit with us in the beginning, but eventually, he would end up wandering around the room with Alice. So me and Scorpius would just sit – after making our own respective rounds, and forcing conversation and establishing contacts with people as dry as leaves in autumn – and make fun of the archaic ritual we were partaking in.

I looked around as a waiter filled my glass with wine – "_Only the finest, ma'm!" _– and sighed. Scorpius raised his eyebrow at me.

As the waiter walked away, I said, "I really hate these things."

Scorpius laughed, reaching out to hold his glass of wine. "Hadn't we already established that?"

"No, I mean _really._" I looked around at all the shiny dresses and fancy robes. "They make me feel so inadequate."

He just about choked on his wine. "You?" he spluttered, looking at me as if I were insane. "Inadequate? Bah."

I blinked up at him. "Of course! Just look at these perfect-postured pansies!" Feeling rather self-conscious, I abruptly straightened my back, feeling like someone had stuck a walking stick up my arse.

Scorpius told me so.

I laughed. "Got what I was aiming for, then."

"Stop that," he said incredulously. He reached out, grabbing my bare shoulders, which were revealed by my strapless gown. "You look ridiculous."

I very maturely made a face at him.

He smiled at me, and I remembered that smile perfectly – that really tender smile, the one it seemed like only _I _ever saw.

I also remembered it because it was exactly how he smiled before he kissed me, all those years ago.

He gently traced the outline of my cheekbone with his finger. "Believe me, Rose, you're not inadequate. Far from it, in fact."

I reflexively smiled up at him. I reached out and smoothed out his coat, just to have some kind of contact with him.

During moments like this, I really couldn't help myself. He was just so… _Scorpius_, and so suddenly and blindingly lovely and earnest and sweet, and it was like catching a rare glimpse of him behind the frontier he often put up.

"Rose!" I heard Albus' voice from somewhere in the room. As if electrocuted, I pulled my hands away from Scorpius abruptly and stood up, gesturing for him to follow.

I pretended I never heard his sad, exasperated sigh.

Sitting here on my bed, looking at him, it hit me exactly how _thickheaded _I had been, or actually, was.

At least I understood now.

Better late than never.

I hoped.

I slid off the bed, as quietly as I could. I grabbed my pillow and comforter, walking over to where he lay, on the ground below my bed. I quietly set down the pillow next to his, and if he detected any sign of movement, he ignored it. I then spread out my comforter, so it covered Scorpius and empty area next to him.

I mean, I figured he was cold as well, but his manly pride was too great to conjure up another blanket. I slid in next to him, turning my head to right so I was now staring at the nape of his neck. I looked at his silvery blonde hair intently, feeling incredibly tempted to run my hands through it.

As I jostled, I felt my hand brush against his, and I realised his hand was lying right next to mine, under the covers. So I did the sensible thing, and slid my fingers between his, and interlocked them.

He finally turned around to look me in the eyes, and I tried not to get intimidated by the intensity of his gaze.

"Hey," I said quietly.

"Hey yourself."

"So, I've been a thickhead, huh?"

"You really have."

I allowed myself a small smile. It was just _so _like him to say that. Then I composed myself, and solemnly said, "Sorry."

"For what?" he asked, looking away from me and up at the ceiling.

"For being a thickhead for five years."

He smiled slowly, eyes twinkling with mirth. He turned over to look at me, and squeezed my hand gently. "That's okay."

He then turned to look at the ceiling again. "Nice cracks you have up there," he commented. "I think I see one shaped like a lightning bolt. Wait... no. That's all of them."

I laughed, stroking his hand with my thumb. Merlin, I loved how my hands felt so small in his. He closed his eyes, looking at peace.

I took a deep breath and braced myself. It was only right I should do this, given how oblivious I had been all this time. In a way, Scorpius had been making numerous 'first moves', to which I never responded.

Time to make my own move.

I sat up, his hand still in mine.

He glanced at me warily, but didn't get up. "I haven't forced anything on you, Rose. I'm not forcing anything on you, alright?"

"No forcing," I agreed, making the universal girl guides salutation, which I think confused him even more.

"Is that some kind of sign for warding off evil or something? Because Rose, I swear, if you try to imply I'm a vampire because of my skin colour again, I'll-"

I interrupted him by swiftly bending over him and planting a small, light kiss on his lips.

At least I intended for it to be light and small.

As I was about to pull away, Scorpius yanked me toward him, fastening his arms around my waist, growling, "No you don't," which made me feel like a hormonal pile of goo.

He then decided he should kiss me again, _properly_, as he put it.

After an appropriate period of time – according to Scorpius – he let go of me, and I promptly fell over on my back, next to him, breathing heavily.

"Well," I said breathlessly.

He laughed, slinging his arm around my waist, and pulling me closer. I cuddled into his chest, feeling perfectly at home.

"We'll figure this out, yeah?"

"Yeah."

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_**AN: Don't forget to review! : )**_


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